


I Can't Be Home Tonight

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, M/M, POV Second Person, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wished he didn't love him. It would be easier if he didn't and he knew that. Knew that since the very beginning yet it never changed a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can't Be Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening material: ****  
> ["When Angels Fly Away" by Cold](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lc_yQVaXDsw)  
>   
> 
> Its 4:25AM and I've been having a bit of a tough night... so, have me writing some angst as I take a break from writing smut.
> 
> This is being told through the character of "Manly".

You kiss up his neck and pretend that you’re the one that he loves.

You hold his hand and pull him in. You peck his forehead and wish for a better song. Something he’d sing under his breath when you were near, something you both held dear.

You hope that maybe something will get better, that somehow he’d love you now instead. That he’d move on and hope for a new song to sing in the morning alone in the shower when he thinks that you’re fast asleep or that you’re simply gone.

You wake up in the middle of the night, his body shaking in his sleep—that man’s name on his lips. You’ve heard the story, heard about how his last lover left. How he was torn away in a halo of fire and ash—of a falling building, that great collapse. You know all about it, you were there at the funeral; you were the one that told him about that day—were the one that watched the last shred of happiness break and fall from those gray-blue eyes.

“Terrence,” he whispers, he sobs. You can’t do anything but kiss his blond strands of hair and wish it all better. You can hope and pray to every star and compilation, every single God in existence but you know it’ll all just end the same.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and kiss up his neck, pretending it was you that he loved enough to cry about.

You’ll hold his hand, pull him in to kiss his check—his ear, his forehead. He’d laugh and press a kiss against your lips in return. His lips pulled wide in a smile, teeth shining in the light though his eyes remain dull.

There are days you wish you didn’t care, that you didn’t love him as much as you did—that he still didn’t love your friend. You wish you weren’t acting so selfish, that you wish you didn’t compare your mourning with his. Terrence was gone—dead, buried six feet under and here you were laying in his bed with the guy he left behind. You wish you didn’t seek comfort in his arms, you wish that he didn’t seek it in yours as well.

Tomorrow he’d still sing one of their songs in the shower, always that one now that he was gone. Always a final nail in Terrence’s coffin—a reminder to himself or to you, you had no idea. He’d sing that one about the angels and soldiers, of explosions and no one being able to love him quite like him.

Tomorrow you’d have to ignore it like you always do when his voice would catch and he’d sob out the lines, have to ignore the guilt eating at your own heart as you roll over on his side of the bed—push yourself up and walk by the bathroom door. You know by know he’d be curled up in the bathtub sobbing into his hands, biting down on his knuckles as he tried not to disturb you.

You wish you didn’t love David Washington, you’ve wished that just about every day since you’ve seen him.

Tomorrow you’ll still love him though, and you’ll continue to. You’ll make sure he eats; he sleeps and takes his medication. You’ll make sure he showers—even if most of it is spent singing that song and crying through it. You’ll make sure he walks out in the sun and bring a jacket with him; it was fall now and the time for t-shirts were over. You’ll make sure that he continues to move forwards instead of falling back—Terrence told you all about how he was when he lost his friends three years ago, how he fell apart.

You won’t let that happen, you know Terrence wouldn’t want that. Wouldn’t want David to fall apart—not because of him, certainly.

You know it would’ve been easier to stop loving him—you know you should’ve given up on his long ago but you never could. You don’t think you ever would.

Tomorrow would bleed to a new day and another after that. You’ll carry on; you’ll make sure that David Washington did as well. It didn’t matter if he’d never stop singing that damn song... it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter that eventually all angels fly away.


End file.
